


Confessions Of A Bus Driver

by Soapbubblesoul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7756954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soapbubblesoul/pseuds/Soapbubblesoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yifan is used to having all kinds of passengers on his bus, but this one is just pushing him to the limit of his self-restraints.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions Of A Bus Driver

**Author's Note:**

> I never, ever would have expected this to turn into 9 fucking k (pun half intended) because this is just pwp. My eternal gratitude goes to my beta for always putting up with my last minute hectic (I’m sorry you had to go through the pain of giving this thing its first edit… at least you had a few good laughs during it). Written for Yifantasy.

If he is being honest, Yifan never imagined he’d one day drive a bus for a living. It’s not exactly the type of job children dream of when they’re asked to imagine their future, but Yifan still can’t really complain. An unexpected chain of coincidences, from being in the right place at the right time to meeting the right people who knew other people, led him to this job. Now he spends five to six days a week behind the wheel of a moderately big bus on a route that is moderately busy during the mornings and the evenings.

There certainly are benefits to the job, and the part Yifan might love the most is getting to observe all the different kinds of passengers that board his bus all day. Since he is one of the few among his co-workers without a family, he’s usually assigned different shifts regularly, switching between morning, noon, and night, content with whatever his employer tells him.

Lately however, there has been a change from that routine which Yifan brought on himself. His boss had looked at him with an eyebrow raised in curiosity when Yifan explicitly requested to be put on the night shift more often. Yifan could see the question in the elder’s eyes, but his boss granted the wish without further comment.

This is how he ended up in his current situation, hands slightly clammy and pulse quickening from an emotion that could either be apprehension or excitement. There are only two more stops left until _he_ will board the bus and Yifan mentally counts the street lights he passes in order to occupy his mind, time seeming to creep by slower than before. It works, because before he knows it, he’s already slowing down the bus at _that_ stop, pressing the buttons to open the door. He tries to keep his eagerness out of his expression as he watches the boarding passengers enter his bus.

A few familiar faces pass him, people Yifan has seen several times already, but he doesn’t care to take special note of them. He checks the tickets they show him, selling to those who don’t already have one, when _he_ passes by.

Yifan doesn’t know his name, but he knows his face very well. He knows his arms and collarbones, his dimples and those _eyes_. The guy catches Yifan’s gaze without any hesitation, holding it as he passes by the driver’s cab. His pretty mouth is pulled into a smile that borders a smirk, but it’s not prominent enough for Yifan to actually be sure which of the two it’s supposed to be. It doesn’t matter either way because the sight of the guy has Yifan’s throat drying up, blood pulsing the slightest bit faster and heating him up further beneath his already warm uniform.

 _Honestly, attractive people just make life so much better_ , Yifan can’t help but muse. Except that this guy isn’t just attractive, he’s drop dead gorgeous—the very personification of _hot_. He has a twinkle in his eyes and slightly disheveled light brown hair, with an infuriatingly adorable dimple in his right cheek that he seems to specifically flash whenever he catches Yifan’s eye. The wifebeater he’s always wearing, even now despite autumn starting to claim the city, shows more of his body than it hides.

 _It’s unfair how only one person is allowed to have this many desirable physical attributes_ , Yifan thinks as he starts the bus’ engine again. It’s become normal for him at that point that way before his shift starts he’s already anticipating his next chance to lay eyes on the guy he believes to be a night class student. It’s not as if he can be sure of the other’s occupation since he’s barely exchanged more than ten words with him. It’s merely an assumption based on the station the brunet always enters from, a tattered backpack slung over his shoulder that looks as if it contains school books. Admittedly it’s not really a solid basis, but it’s all Yifan has to go on until the day he finally mans up and talks to the other.

Tonight doesn’t seem to that night however, all the words dying in Yifan’s throat when the guy passes him. As soon as the other’s found a seat in the third row, he rests his head against the window as if he’s ready to fall asleep. If Yifan could have his way, he would just keep on watching the brunet slumped against the glass pane, looking peaceful and at ease, albeit possibly exhausted. However he can’t have his way unfortunately because he still is the bus driver, and thus has to continue on his route with his attention focused on the street ahead.

Yet his eyes keep on wandering to the rear-view mirror, trying to catch sight of the guy. It doesn’t even come as a surprise anymore at this point when he meets those dark brown eyes head on as soon as his gaze strays from the road. A shiver runs down Yifan’s spine, and he can’t even properly explain what it is about the other that makes his body react like this to something as simple as eye contact. It feels as if there’s something akin to electricity crackling through the air that sends goose bumps over his skin. They’ve been playing this little game for a while now, of catching and holding each other’s gazes, and Yifan doesn’t quite know what to make of it.

At the beginning Yifan thought he was just imagining the burning eyes on his back, courtesy of his own wishful thinking because the other man only reminded Yifan that it has been a while since his last roll in the hay, so to speak. He hasn’t had the chance to look for potential partners, too busy looking through possible evening classes to further indulge his passion for drawing. That is one of the advantages of driving a bus: still having more than enough mental capacities left to tend to your hobbies. Another advantage is undoubtedly meeting passengers like the brunet who’s currently pulling his lips into a lazy smirk—more prominent, this time—as he stretches his arms above his head. To an unknowing passerby it might have looked like a simple gesture of relieving one’s stiff muscles, but Yifan isn’t that clueless anymore. He’s very sure that the only purpose of the movement is to accentuate the muscles rippling beneath smooth skin.

Yifan almost misses the traffic light switching to green, and it’s only after the angry honking of the jeep behind him reaches his ears that he does remember that he’s still behind the steering wheel of his bus. From the corner of his eye he thinks he sees a self-satisfied expression on the other’s face, but he’s intent on keeping his focus on the street ahead from now on. Despite this resolve, his hands are clammy now, throat dry as a slight sheen of sweat starts collecting on his forehead due to the rise in his body temperature. It seems to be constantly rising in his already warm uniform, and all it tells him is that it might be already too late to divert his attention.

It’s the third week since Yifan first saw the other enter the bus, and in a way he thinks he should have his physical reactions under control by now, but it only seems to be getting worse the more often he sees the smaller brunet, the more his imagination kicks in. It provides all the mental pictures his mind comes up with in the most inappropriate moments throughout the day. Then again, the guy isn’t making it any easier for Yifan either, apparently intent on frustrating Yifan to the best of his abilities—and he’s _very_ talented in terms of being frustrating.

The thing that takes Yifan off-guard most is that while he does appreciate attractiveness, he usually doesn’t desire people just because of their looks. Not that he has anything against a quick one night stand after an evening of clubbing, but the kind of attraction he feels towards this passenger is stronger than that. It’s more profound, less of an impulsive urge to grind his body against a well-build other body; rather it is a simmering kind of attraction, growing stronger and stronger each time Yifan lays eyes on the other, or catches one of these not-so-subtle flirty glances and sees the dimples appear in the brunet’s cheeks. It’s frankly new for him to feel like this when he doesn’t even know the other’s name yet, and weirdly addicting, so he keeps on looking forward to these encounters even if they make his pulse spike and leave his shirt slightly damp because his blood runs too hot through his veins. To sum it up, the guy makes Yifan feel like a horny teenager again and he can’t even bring himself to mind.

Time always passes slower and faster at the same time once the brunet boards the bus, and thus it seems like it’s both only the blink of an eye and half an eternity later that he nears his route’s last stop, far in the outskirts of the city where no one usually is out on the streets this late at night. He expects the usual routine to start now, with the four or five remaining passengers getting off the bus. The brunet is always last so that he can cast one final gaze at the driver from beneath his lashes. That last look more often than not has Yifan rushing to the bathroom as soon as he gets time to himself. However, when he turns around once the bus comes to a halt, he realizes that this night is a break from the routine because there is no one else left besides the brunet and himself. Yifan’s throat automatically constricts, whether from panic or anticipation, he doesn’t know.

He waits for the other to get up, to pass by him with that twinkle in his eyes the way he always does at the last stop, but weirdly enough the brunet doesn’t seem intent on following his usual plan of action tonight. Instead he remains in his seat, hot gaze fixed right back on the tall blond, and Yifan immediately feels the conflicting urge to either preen or squirm from the attention.

This is his chance. He doesn’t know why, what’s different, whether it’s simply the fact that they’re both alone on this last stop, or whether the brunet has lost his patience as well. He doesn’t care to question it much however as a silent understanding passes between them—or at least Yifan assumes it’s an understanding because when he starts the bus again to continue on to the secluded bus park, the other remains seated, looking utterly calm. Yifan can only guess that beneath the surface he’s just as jittery as the driver himself is. Or perhaps he’s not. Perhaps it’s impossible to be as jittery as Yifan is in that moment.

In order to calm his nerves, Yifan parks the bus with an amount of precision and perfectionism he’s never before displayed when maneuvering the vehicle into its final resting position for the night. It’s all so that he can force himself to breathe evenly, hoping to slow down the pulse that’s thundering in his ears. Perhaps that way he can at least not _appear_ like a horny teenager, despite feeling like one. The routine of the actions gives him some resemblance of calmness, but it only takes one look at the brunet to shred all his efforts into tiny pieces once more.

He isn’t sure whether it’s just the fault of his elevated senses or the anticipation prickling in goosebumps along his skin, but the other looks even more gorgeous with the orange lights of the parking lot playing over his features. Despite looking more handsome than anyone else Yifan has ever seen before, it’s not the other’s attractiveness that prompts Yifan to lift slowly from his driver’s seat as soon as he has shut the engine off—effectively plunging the bus into darkness when its lights go out—no, it are the other’s eyes that draw the blond in; it have always been the other’s eyes that made Yifan weak during the games they played. There is something to those dark brown orbs that makes Yifan unable to resist, an internal tug pulling him forwards until he slows to a halt in front of the row the brunet has chosen to sit in when he boarded the bus.

His breath catches in his throat and red blossoms on his cheeks when he sees that the other’s pants are undone, one hand disappeared beneath the fabric. It’s really not rocket science to guess what the other is doing, and going by the colour in his face and the way his breath comes out in light puffs—not to count the tent in his boxers Yifan can see whenever the smaller moves his hand down enough to accentuate the head of his cock—the brunet seems to be ahead of Yifan in terms of arousal. Not that the sight doesn’t make a sharp, hot wave of want hit Yifan right in the stomach, his cock stirring to life immediately.

His brain summons up pictures of just a few minutes prior, when the two of them had still been eye-fucking each other, and suddenly he realizes that he hadn’t imagined the light blush dusting the other’s cheeks, or the funny expressions on the other’s face. The brunet had already been jerking himself off ever since the last remaining passenger had gotten off two stops before the final one. Yifan wonders whether the fact shouldn’t put him off because jerking off while looking at the bus driver surely is a quite perverted thing to do, but seriously, who is Yifan to judge, standing there half-hard and about to fuck a passenger on the bus he drives for a living—he’s not the slightest bit better than the other and he also doesn’t care.

“Well…” the husky voice pulls Yifan out of his trance and he notices how he has been staring at the other’s lap, his own erection growing with each slow pump of the other’s hand. The blond has half a mind to be embarrassed but if the other starts to pleasure himself so shamelessly where Yifan can easily see him, he should be prepared to be stared at. Nonetheless Yifan wills his eyes to travel up from the other’s crotch, over his flimsily covered chest, erect nipples easily visible beneath the thin white fabric, passing the delicious collarbones that just scream to be licked and bitten at, until he finally settles on the smaller’s face. A slow smile spreads across his features now that he has Yifan’s attention, and he adds, “… hello there. _Mr. Bus driver_.”

And Yifan decides that it are not just this stranger’s eyes, but also the pitch of his voice and the way he almost seems to purr the last words that affects Yifan just as much, a pleasant shiver running down his spine. If there was any reason left within the taller, any exhibitions against fucking a passenger on his bus, they’re sure to be gone by now. With two big steps he’s standing right in front of where the other is seated, happy that his bus has wider rows towards the front because else it would not have been possible for him to tower over the brunet the way he does, forcing the other to tilt his head back to look at him.

“I decided to get started already, I hope you don’t mind,” the smaller man says, and his words almost sound like he’s genuinely concerned, but that smirk of his tells Yifan otherwise.

For some reason all of Yifan’s nervousness dissipates in that moment, arousal growing rapidly as he continues to watch the scene unravel. “And what if I did mind?” he asks, his voice a few octaves deeper than usual, and because the adrenaline makes him feel bold he adds, “What if I had been the one who wanted to make you hard?”

He doesn’t know what to expect, perhaps a low moan, but instead the other’s smirk just seems to stretch wider. “Well, then we wouldn’t have a problem because just seeing you in that uniform is enough to get me hard,” the smaller man responds with that husky voice of his, and Yifan bites back a moan at the unexpectedly lewd words falling from such an innocent looking face. If there’s one thing the other isn’t, it’s innocent, Yifan is sure of that by now.

Without waiting for an answer from the blond, the smaller man uses his unoccupied hand to grab at the tie of Yifan’s uniform, forcing him to bend down until the brunet can surge up enough to ghost his lips against Yifan’s. “And on top of being hot, it’s also a very useful uniform.” Any possible answer of Yifan’s is muffled when the other closes the last millimetres between them, smashing his lips against the taller one’s. It has little finesse and a lot of raw lust, and Yifan finds that all his remaining cautions fly out of the window. There is a little voice inside his head that reprimands him that for one, the other is virtually a stranger and two, they are essentially at Yifan’s work place, but it is immediately quieted by the other’s tongue prodding at his lips, gaining entrance with little resistance.

He lets out a quiet moan when the smaller man’s tongue starts mapping out his mouth, and Yifan feels strangely out of control, bent at a not exactly comfortable level, unable to move since he is being held in place by his tie, the other dominating the kiss. In order to regain at least some of the control, he threads one hand into the smaller man’s hair—relishing in how soft it feels, connecting that with how soft the other’s lips are and imagining how soft the brunet’s skin must be as well—and uses the leverage to tilt the other’s head back even further, sucking on the other’s tongue at the same time. Finally he hears a low moan rumble from the man’s throat, and it spurs him to repeat the action, his second hand grabbing the other’s shoulder to steady himself in his bent-down position.

Yifan has no idea how long they stay like this, just kissing with Yifan almost forgetting about their awkward positions when the brunet’s hand finally lets go of his tie to find its way below Yifan’s shirt, stroking along the faint outline of his abs softly, touch enough to send the blond’s nerve endings alight. He notices how the other’s second hand is still buried in his pants, his movements having sped up a little ever since their kiss started, and a sharp spark of annoyance shoots through Yifan’s veins. It’s not fair that the other is stroking his own erection while Yifan’s is still aching within his pants. Using the hand that had been holding onto the smaller man’s shoulder, he reaches for the other’s wrist, pulling his arm away from his pants. In his surprise the other doesn’t even resist, only releases a displeased whine when his cock loses the friction his palm was providing.

Yifan withdraws from the kiss, far enough that he can look at the other’s expression and see the look of annoyance and a slight hint of involuntary betrayal in lust-darkened eyes because he hasn’t let go of the other’s wrist. “I can’t let you have fun all by yourself when I’m right here.”

It seems to be the right thing to say because the younger’s eyes darken further, and Yifan doesn’t even have the time to contemplate the shadow of mischief he saw hushing over the other’s features before he’s greeted with a smirk that he’s already familiar with. “Well, if that’s the case…”

The brunet doesn’t finish his sentence, instead moving to grab at the taller man’s hips with both of his hands—Yifan is caught between being utterly disgusted and turned on at the same time by the other’s precum stained fingers pressing into his dark blue uniform jacket. It doesn’t take more than a gentle urging from the smaller man, a soft squeeze and a well-aimed push for Yifan to let himself be maneuvered onto the seat next to where the brunet sat. Only split-seconds after he has sat down there is a warm body pressed against his as the other immediately crawls onto his lap, his knees on both sides of Yifan, hands braced against the taller’s shoulders to keep his balance much like Yifan had done it before. Without a second of hesitation the brunet surges forward to connect their lips again, and Yifan’s hands automatically curl around the other’s hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles that draw a low hum from the other.

“Figured it would be a bit more comfortable like this,” the smaller explains between kisses.

“Thanks, that’s very attentive…?” Yifan lets his sentence trail off in a question since he doesn’t know with which name to end his appreciation of the other’s consideration. He wonders whether he should have just asked the other clearly, worrying that he left his implied question too vague for it to be properly heard. But the other draws back from where he’s been sucking soft bruises into Yifan’s neck, a small smile playing on his features when he leans towards Yifan’s mouth again.

“Yixing,” he whispers against Yifan’s lips and the taller sighs a little in contentment because finally, _finally_ he can give a name to the guy that’s been occupying his mind for so long now, can put a name onto his tongue for when he pleasures himself while imagining it are the smaller man’s hands that are stroking along his length instead of his own.

“That’s a very pretty name, Yixing,” he compliments, and as if knowing the other’s name gave him some newfound confidence, he lets his hands dart below the other’s wifebeater, finally coming into contact with warm skin. It’s just as soft as he had imagined and Yixing shivers on top of him when Yifan lets his fingers glide over his ribs. “I am…” he begins to give his own name in return, but he’s interrupted by Yixing grinning at him knowingly.

“Yifan, I know,” the smaller man proudly declares, moving one hand from the blond’s shoulder and brushing over the fabric under the name tag pinned to his uniform, applying enough pressure that even through two layers of clothes Yifan can still feel the friction against his nipples. It’s enough to draw a little gasp from him, but Yixing is obviously not pleased with the reaction yet. He leans forward, licking Yifan’s earlobe before taking it into his mouth and sucking, while at the same time bucking his hips forward so that their clothed erections press together.

The breath catches in Yifan’s throat as his fingers involuntarily tighten their grip on the smaller man’s hips, a stuttering, half-broken moan falling from his lips as a sudden spike of arousal rolls over his body. And that’s only from the brunet rocking against him with barely any skin contact yet. Yifan doesn’t quite know how long he’ll last at this rate; it’s clearly been too long for him and he’s more riled up than he expected himself to be. Yixing shows no mercy however, repeating the motion of bringing their crotches together, and when Yifan bucks up to meet him—it’s not as if he has any control over the motion, his hips twitching on their own accord—the other throws his head back, baring a delicious throat that just screams for Yifan’s mouth to attach itself to it.

He knows that throats are erogenous zones, yielding very favourable reactions when stimulated correctly, but the way Yixing’s breath hitches as he releases a high-pitched whine, squirming away from Yifan and clinging closer at the same time as his hands fist tightly into the driver’s jacket, is unexpected to the least. The sound and the movement are so entrancing that Yifan keeps his lips connected to the brunet’s neck, moving sideways and downwards with scraping teeth and soothing tongue, stopping occasionally to suck light bruises into the other’s unblemished skin. It has Yixing positively thrashing in his hold, unrestrained moans falling from his slightly swollen lips as he keeps on grinding his groin against the taller man’s. Yifan can feel their cocks brush together even through the various layers of clothes and it makes him release an answering low groan.

His uniform slacks, while far from being as constricting as the jeans he wears when he’s not at work, become more and more uncomfortable as his arousal grows with every sound of the other’s voice, with every touch of his fingertips beneath Yifan’s shirt. There is definitely too much fabric between them, and Yifan tugs urgently at the smaller man’s wife beater, urging him to lift his arms and take the obstructing piece of clothing off. The street lights shining in through the windows are the only source of illumination inside the bus but with his eyes already adjusted to the low lighting, Yifan has no trouble studying every single detail of Yixing’s upper body. His arms and collarbones already suggested it but with his shirt out of the way it’s glaringly obvious just how well-built the smaller man is, smooth skin pulling taut over strong yet lean muscles, abs firmly outlined. It makes Yifan feel slightly jealous and unbelievably aroused at the same time to watch Yixing’s muscles ripple as he moves.

“Like what you see?” The mischievous smile is back again, and Yifan decides that he definitely liked the breathless moans better—even though that dimple is a sight that makes his heart miss a beat, and for a reason entirely different from arousal—so he leans forward to flick his tongue over one of the perk nipples. They are a dark contrast against Yixing’s otherwise pale chest, drawing Yifan’s attention to them immediately. As he planned, Yixing’s cocky words die on his lips, being replaced by hitching breaths and stuttering hips. “It’s only fair—“ Yixing starts, but his words get broken by a gasp when Yifan bites his nipple before darting his tongue over it to soothe it. “They’re hot, but clothes off,” Yixing bites out, apparently trying to chop his sentence down to its most necessary parts in order to get his message across between his panting.

Yifan only then takes notice of how his hair is essentially plastered to his forehead with sweat, his shirt and pants clinging to his skin because his uniform is definitely _hot_ , and not in the way that draws Yixing in—or not _only_ in that way—but rather in the way that makes Yifan feel as if he’s entered a sauna. So he’s really all too eager to get out of his clothes, aiding the smaller in pulling of his jacket before throwing it carelessly into the row behind them. Yixing leans back a little, as if to admire the new view, and Yifan can already see that dark shadow flickering over his eyes; part lust and part playfulness. His hands come up to grab at both sides of Yifan’s collar, and the slight tensing of his arms is all the warning Yifan needs to hurriedly catch Yixing’s wrists, preventing the other from simply ripping his shirt open and sending its buttons scattering.

Yixing pouts a little when Yifan pries his grip away, forcing him to release the fabric. “I still need that shirt to get home,” the blond explains, letting go of Yixing and instead moving to undo the buttons of his shirt as quickly as he can with shaky hands.

“Such a spoilsport,” Yixing complains, huffing in dissatisfaction. Yifan doesn’t know why, but those words light something inside of him, this desire to wipe the other’s playfulness and teasing away and replacing it with pleasure great enough to make the other unable to form one coherent thought, let alone a sentence. So even while one hand’s still working at opening his shirt’s buttons, his second hand slides around the brunet’s waist, coming to a halt at the small of his back, low enough that his fingers are brushing below Yixing’s pants. With all the strength he can manage, he pulls the other’s lower body forward. He observes Yixing try to bite back a moan but fail when Yifan’s hand travels deeper, disappearing below the hem of his jeans, slipping into his boxers easily so that he can finally grope that fine piece of ass he’s been lusting over for so long.

Figuring that now that he’s started his assault, he might as well go all the way, Yifan lets his fingers slide along Yixing’s ass until he can rub his middle finger over the smaller man’s entrance, relishing in the broken moan it draws from Yixing. Yifan’s erection within his pants gives a painful twitch, and he can only imagine the angry red it must be coloured by now. With his shirt fully opened, he immediately moves to undo his pants as well. He almost expected some sort of comment from Yixing about that, but the other seems to be too lost in the sensation of Yifan rubbing over his hole, hips tilting to allow the other better access.

Yifan is tempted to believe that he finally got the better of Yixing, but then the smaller locks eyes with him, and Yifan’s throat tightens. With nimble fingers, Yixing pulls Yifan’s shirt off the taller’s shoulders before pushing his own hips backwards and further into the touch of Yifan’s hand. In the same moment, he leans forward to suck at Yifan’s nipple as some sort of payback for the other’s previous actions. It makes the driver’s brain short circuit, the influx of sensations—Yixing’s mouth, his skin, his scent, his voice, his everything—too much for him to take at once, and the little semblance of control he thought he had slips from his grasp before he can even begin to think about it.

Instead he’s left helplessly moaning and groaning, especially when he suddenly feels a small hand sneak its way into his boxers and wrap around his erection. His breath catches at the feeling, and the way Yixing hums around his nipples, almost as if he was signalling his approval for Yifan’s cock, doesn’t help either.

“How— _nghhh_ ,“ he cuts his question off, both because Yixing flicks his wrist in a particularly aggravating manner in that moment, and because he isn’t quite sure how to continue either way. _How far do you want to take this_? he thinks about asking, or _How do you want me to fuck you_? or perhaps even _How did we get into this situation in the first place_?

He isn’t sure whether Yixing even heard his question, his voice too breathy in between groans and low moans, or if he could figure out what Yifan was trying to ask with the single interrogative. Instead of answering, the smaller man lets go of Yifan’s nipples in favour of pressing their chests together, capturing Yifan’s parted lips in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. Yifan kisses back like a drowning man gasping for air, feeling as if he hasn’t kissed Yixing’s soft lips in way too long when in reality it might not have even been minutes.

“Wait a moment,” Yixing says after pulling back, his hand disappearing from Yifan’s cock and his thighs lifting from Yifan’s. The taller is prepared to whine in protest, but then he sees Yixing quickly step out of his shoes so that he can pull his pants and boxers down, leaving him stark naked. Instead of immediately moving back to his previous position however he looks around, his gaze settling on something to Yifan’s right.

“You too,” the brunet instructs without even looking at Yifan as he bends down to search for something in his backpack, and the sight of Yixing bent over, his ass sticking out, makes Yifan’s mouth water. At first his mind draws a blank as for what the smaller could mean, staring as Yixing stands up straight again with one hand against his hips and a condom and a package of lube in the other. It’s only after Yixing raises an eyebrow expectantly at him that Yifan realizes what exactly the other asked of him. Without further ado he lifts off the seat a little, enough to pull his pants and boxers down. They pool around his ankles as his erection finally, _finally_ springs free, and Yifan shivers a little at the rush of cold air against his hot flesh. The seat feels slightly sticky when he lowers himself back down, but he doesn’t have long to contemplate before Yixing is back in his lap, pressing eager kisses to Yifan’s lips as he pushes the lube and condom into the taller man’s hands.

“You know what to do, right?” he asks in a husky voice, and Yifan can’t tell whether Yixing wants to tease him or whether it’s meant to be an actual question. Instead of answering, Yifan choses to bite the other’s lower lip by means of reprimanding him, and at the same time his hands fumble behind Yixing’s back to tear open the lube package. Suddenly a question pops up in his mind and he’s unable to stop himself from voicing it.

“So do you carry around lube and condoms wherever you go, or did you plan on this to happen?” Yifan wonders, half teasing and half curious as he covers his fingers with the liquid from the package, taking care to leave enough for his own erection later on.

“Well, I did tell you about how your uniform always gets me hard, didn’t I?” the smaller responds, lifting up on his knees a little and tilting his hips back to give Yifan better access. “So you better hurry and fuck me already, I think I’ve waited long enough for this.”

Yifan finds he can’t add anything to that, so he doesn’t. Instead he circles his lube-covered fingers around Yixing’s rim, pushing the first finger in when Yixing pushes back against him with a low moan. The slide in is easy at the beginning, Yixing huffing out impatient breaths when Yifan tries to take his time in stretching the other out properly.

“Hurry up already, I’m not made from glass,” he complains when Yifan pumps one finger in and out, not yet adding a second one. With a raised eyebrow the taller man takes in Yixing’s flushed cheeks and his mouth that hangs open as he pants heavily, and Yifan’s cock agrees that they better speed up this stretching process a little. Within a minute Yifan is three fingers into Yixing, the younger’s arms shaking slightly as he braces himself on the blond’s shoulders, forcefully trying to control his breathing and relax around the intrusion. It takes Yifan entirely too long in his books, but after trying out varying angles he finally finds the one that rips a surprised keen from Yixing as the smaller man begins to grind back onto the other’s long fingers. “Th- _There_ ,” he whines in a high-pitched voice that makes pure lust stir in Yifan’s gut, and he makes sure to let the tips of his fingers push into that exact spot over and over again. He only stops when he notices the tremble in the other’s thighs and just when he’s about to pull his fingers out, Yixing is already reaching for the condom package.

He rips it open with his teeth because he needs one hand for balance, and a groan rumbles low in Yifan’s throat at the sight, escalating into a moan when Yixing loses no time to slip the latex onto Yifan’s erection. The younger takes it onto himself to coat Yifan’s length thoroughly with lube, his fingers moving up and down Yifan’s cock and squeezing at all the right times to make Yifan lose a little more of his mind with every stroke. His fingers have long since stopped thrusting, just resting inside the smaller man’s ass, and Yixing clenches slightly around them as he presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to the corner of Yifan’s mouth. It’s enough to get Yifan back to reality and he withdraws his fingers immediately.

A shudder runs through Yixing’s body at the motion, but Yifan doesn’t get enough time to relish it because Yixing immediately shifts until he’s positioned right above Yifan’s cock, his hand reaching behind him to guide it to his entrance. All throughout he holds Yifan’s gaze, wordless understanding passing between them that neither of them will suddenly chicken out of this, both too far gone at that point. And without waiting for any further verbal confirmation, Yixing sinks down onto Yifan’s cock much quicker than the taller expected, and he barely gets time to process what happened before he’s engulfed by a tight heat, a strangled moan on his lips as his hands grip at Yixing’s hips again.

As soon as Yifan’s cock is fully buried inside of him Yixing stills, legs bent at an awkward angle as he straddles Yifan, allowing him to sink down as deep as possible. His face is slightly scrunched up, obviously affected by the stretch despite his eagerness to take all of Yifan in as quickly as possible. Trying to distract him, Yifan rubs soothing circles into his skin and mouths along his collarbones gently. It seems to do the trick because after a few controlled breaths, Yixing nods—either to himself or Yifan, the taller can’t really tell—and begins to move by rolling his hips experimentally. When it draws a simultaneous moan from both of them the younger repeats the motion before lifting up from Yifan’s lap a little and sinking back down again.

Yifan is unsure of whether he’s allowed to move yet or whether Yixing’s still experimenting what feels good by himself, so he does his best to refrain from thrusting up into the other. The way Yixing moves on top of him is already enough to make him go breathless as pleasure shoots through his veins. Bouncing on his lap like this, skin glistening with sweat, eyes half lidded and his mouth hanging open, Yixing looks absolutely debauched and Yifan is _loving it_. In his absentmindedness Yifan forgets about keeping an eye on his self-restraints and when Yixing grinds down onto him, his hips stutter, thrusting upwards into the welcoming warmth. The brunet’s eyes fly open all of a sudden as a keen leaves his lips, and Yifan knows he’s found his prostate. It has their actions gain an elevated sense of urgency, the steady rhythm Yixing had been working up getting quicker and quicker and Yifan finds himself stumbling to keep up.

“I’m kinda surprised,” Yixing breathes against Yifan’s neck when he pulls himself up, just to fall right back down and Yifan is half impressed, half annoyed that the other does still sound coherent after all. _And so smug at that_. “I would’ve— _ahh_ ,” Yixing cuts himself off with a moan as his prostate is hit head-on again, continuing his sentence either way, ”—would’ve thought that you would fuck me.”

Yifan’s brain grapples to make sense of the sentence, but he draws a blank. Collecting all the breath he can and hoping it’s enough, he retorts, “The last time I checked my cock was buried in your ass, and to me that sounds very much as if I’m fucking you.”

Yixing has stilled his movements, perhaps to allow Yifan to talk, or perhaps to allow both of them to catch their breath. He looks at Yifan as if the other has said exactly what he wanted to hear, as if he is a fish which took the bait on first throw. “No,” the brunet declares in a surprisingly final tone and even though his features had been distorted in pleasure just a few moments prior he still manages to look surprisingly haughty. “Right now you’re not fucking me. I’m fucking myself on your cock, that’s a huge difference.”

Yifan raises an eyebrow in a mock questioning manner. “Oh, I see. Is that how it is?” He reads the younger’s words for what they are: a provocation for Yifan to be more demanding, more dominant. Even though he’s feeling slightly lightheaded already from the blood boiling with lust in his veins, out of breath and panting, he finds himself more than eager to take on the challenge the younger just thrust at him. A new spike of arousal makes his cock twitch—he’s pleased to see how Yixing’s expression betrays his pleasure—and it feels as if some sort of switch has been turned on.

“Well, it certainly would be a shame then if you looked forward to being fucked by me and I didn’t grant you your wish,” Yifan says with a surprising calmness, self-assuredness he didn’t know he had oozing from his words. Despite still being short of breath, hands shaking slightly from the burst of adrenaline thrumming in his veins, he feels their roles change. He’s in charge now and he feels a rush of excitement at the thought.

Yixing responds with a soft purr, gyrating his hips where he’s seated on Yifan’s cock without lifting himself up, “It would be a shame indeed.”

It’s all that it takes for Yifan to stroke up Yixing’s inner thighs, leaving goosebumps and soft shivers in his wake, strategically skirting the other’s erection, and coming up to wrap his hands around Yixing’s hips. An impatient whine leaves Yixing’s lips when Yifan holds him in place. A slow smirk spreads on Yifan’s features, mirroring the one the other had flashed at him all evening, and he uses the moment of surprise to half push, half lift Yixing off his lap. The smaller gasps softly when Yifan’s cock slides out of him, surprise having his eyes widen as he looks at Yifan with an air of betrayal. But the blond doesn’t let him get any complaints out before he stands up, finally using his height to his advantage as it’s Yixing this time who has to tilt his head back to look up at him.

Yifan bends down, but only slightly, only enough to catch Yixing’s lips in another kiss, his hands on Yixing’s lower back pulling the smaller one in and raising him onto his tip toes to secure him against Yifan’s chest. The position has their erections brushing against each other, without any clothes between them this time, and Yixing gives a high, needy whine in the back of his throat, his hips moving as if he’s trying to create as much friction for his erection as possible. Yifan feels the tenseness drain a little from the body beneath his fingers when Yixing relaxes into the kiss, still desperate but slightly pacified by the way Yifan is stroking the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

It’s when he feels that the other has left his guard down that Yifan tightens his grip on the smaller hips, using his strength once more to make the other turn around, one arm snuck around Yixing’s waist while the other pushes between his shoulder blades, effectively folding the smaller one in the middle and making his hands catch of the backrest of the seat as he falls forward. Yixing yelps, and Yifan immediately follows him down, his own chest pressed against Yixing’s back as his cock already pokes at the other’s entrance again.

“So you want me to fuck you?” he asks darkly, his breath ghosting against Yixing’s neck and making a shiver run down Yixing’s spine as his knees seem to buck.

“ _Yes_ ,” the brunet pushes back against Yifan, but the taller holds him in place, debating on whether or not he wants to drag this game out even longer. His own cock is throbbing painfully however, screaming for release and for being emerged in Yixing again, so he decides to cut the teasing short.

“Then I will. I will fuck you until you forget your own name.” Yifan hisses, and while he knows it’s a clichéd line it still has Yixing moan wantonly.

“ _Please_ ,” the smaller says, and after a split second he adds, “As long as I will still know your name so that I can scream it when I come.”

Yixing is good at playing him, Yifan notes when he only barely manages to bite back the moan threatening to escape his mouth at the idea of his name spilling from Yixing’s lips when the younger orgasms. “Oh, I’ll make you scream it already way before you come. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I’ll fuck you until you don’t know _anything_ but my name anymore.”

And with that Yifan presses in again with one forceful thrust, pushing Yixing forward and closer towards the seat as he takes the smaller off-guard, a strangled moan leaving Yixing’s lips that rises in pitch when Yifan pulls out just to slam back in again. He’s still bent forward to cover Yixing’s back, the angle taking a bit of the force away with which he can thrust in but this way he can press kisses along Yixing’s spine, making soft gasps leave the younger’s lips in between moans. He tries his best to aim for different angles even with the limited freedom of movement he has in this position, and he grunts involuntarily when Yixing suddenly lets out a small scream.

A half-smirk forms on the taller man’s features as he drives into the spot again, but the keen that it draws from Yixing makes him moan in reaction, and Yifan deciding that he doesn’t have time to be smug. He can feel his release getting closer, and in that moment it’s only about the both of them chasing their pleasure. When he rubs his thumb over Yixing’s nipple, the other throws his head back and his breath hitches, sounding almost like a sob. Having anticipated Yixing’s reaction, Yifan immediately uses the opportunity to lean closer until he can nibble at the other’s throat, and it makes Yixing _wild_.

An unbroken string of high-pitched moans rips from the smaller man’s throat, his body moving against and away from Yifan’s at the same time. Yixing’s hips grind back to meet Yifan’s cock as it glides in and out of him, his back arching against the other’s chest while he tries to shy away from the assault to his neck at the same time. However Yifan’s arms around his body prevent the brunet from being able to move away from the taller man’s mouth.

Feeling the pleasure coil tighter and tighter in his stomach, a the telltale sign that Yifan won’t last much longer, the driver moves his lips away from Yixing’s skin, but only a little, staying close enough that his hot breath continues to ghost over the other’s neck. He drives in with one particularly hard thrust, making Yixing inhale sharply before a sound of desperation leaves his throat at Yifan’s ceased movements. The smaller man grinds his hips back as if he could spur Yifan to move again, but the blond has other plans. “Say my name,” he whispers in a rough voice, accentuating his words by pulling out of Yixing and pushing back in, repeating the action but assuming a much slower pace than the one he had been going at previously.

“ _Yi_ —,“ Yixing begins, not getting further when Yifan chooses that exact moment to hit his prostate head on, driving all the air from the smaller man’s lungs. “Yi—Yi— _Yiii_ -,“ he attempts over and over again but Yifan doesn’t let him catch enough breath to formulate the second syllable, his panting and whining cutting through the blond’s name before Yixing can fully voice it.

Yifan preens internally because finally he has the other completely at his mercy. He doesn’t get to relish the feeling for long however since he is at his limit as well, and he doesn’t want to give the other the satisfaction of coming first. So instead he finally wraps his large hand around the other’s cock, the flesh hot in his palm, and he pumps in time with his own hips crashing into Yixing. He can feel the smaller man’s reaction all over his body, from the arched back to the shiver on Yixing’s skin and the clenching of his hole when the younger cums with a stuttering moan, Yifan’s name finally leaving his lips in its whole form as he spurts over Yifan’s hand and the seat in front of him. Even through the aftershocks of his orgasm he still moves to meet the other’s thrusts, and it doesn’t take Yifan more than a few seconds to follow after.

His release is so strong that he momentarily sees stars dance in front of his eyes, and he is caught between drawing in a stuttering breath and whining the other’s name in a high pitched voice. The force with which his cum shoots into the other’s body has Yixing moan lowly again, despite being spent already, as Yifan rides out his orgasm.

They stay in place for a moment, Yixing’s arms and legs trembling slightly from the exertion and rush of adrenaline. Yifan’s breathing is irregular, his heart still thumping in his chest as if he just ran a marathon. He closes his eyes and forces himself to inhale and exhale slowly in hopes of calming down. A soft pressure against his chest makes him notice that Yixing is trying to straighten his back, instead being met with Yifan still looming over him. Slinging his arms around the other’s body to keep him close for just a moment longer, Yifan half-follows, half-guides Yixing’s movements. Only when the both of them are upright again does the taller man pull out of Yixing, a sound caught between a hiss and a moan escaping the brunet’s lips.

Yifan is frozen in inactiveness as soon as their bodies have separated, his pleasure clouded mind too slow to come up with what to do next even when Yixing is already moving again. The brunet stretches his back, flinching slightly as he seems to reach for the roof with his fingertips. He lets his arms drop back down with a deep exhale.

“Well _that_ was fun,” Yixing declares as he pulls up and fastens his pants again, turning around to look at the taller with a brilliant, satisfied smile. Yifan can only look back dumbly as Yixing quickly reaches for the white wifebeater they had discarded first; looking at the cum drying on his chest the brunet seems to halt for a moment before turning to rummage through his bag. “I’m really sorry but I gotta run. My roommate only is at home till eleven and I forgot my keys, so I need to make it back home before then.” Yixing comes back up with a few wet wipes in hand, quickly cleaning the traces of their previous activities from his chest before putting his shirt on.

Not knowing what he’s supposed to answer to that, Yifan chooses to stay silent, quickly taking off the condom and placing it on the ground near the seat to dispose of later before pulling his boxers and trousers back on. When the other turns to face him, their eyes meet and a soft, almost affectionate looking smile lingers on Yixing’s mouth for a moment before he breaks into a grin, the expression accentuating his dimple and making Yifan’s heart stutter.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Bus driver,” the brunet says, moving forward and pressing a small kiss to the corner of Yifan’s lips, and the elder is too slow to catch him before Yixing has already rushed out of the bus—surprisingly fast considering the slight limp he’s newly acquired. Through the windows he can see the smaller man turn around to wave at him one last time with a smile, casual as if they had just met for a cup of coffee instead of having fucked on a public transport vehicle. Yifan doesn’t even get to raise his hand to wave back before the brunet is already jogging down the expanse of the parking area, quickly disappearing into the darkness. After the shadows have swallowed Yixing’s figure up, Yifan realizes that he didn’t even get the other man’s number.

It’s only now that he’s alone in the silence of the bus that his surroundings properly register with Yifan. He sees Yixing’s cum starting to dry on the seat in front of him, his own jacket and shirt fallen carelessly onto the floor in the row behind and the filled condom resting accusingly next to his feet.

His cheeks burn with a blush so intensely that Yifan thinks he might faint.  
 

-o-

  
 

Yifan isn’t ready and he knows it. He had been tempted to ask his boss for a different shift because he isn’t quite sure whether he can deal with seeing his perhaps-not-so-secret-crush again, but he tells himself to man up and stand by his actions. And even though it’s largely overshadowed by embarrassment and anxiousness, a small part of him is more than eager to see Yixing again.

When he slows down at Yixing’s usual stop, his palms are sweatier than ever as he clutches the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white, a slightly forced smile on his features as he wills himself to keep his cool.

The brunet boards the bus as if today’s just like any other day, flashing Yifan the same coy smile he always does as he passes by the bus driver. The normality should ease some of Yifan’s tension, he reasons, but just the sight of the younger is enough to bring back images of the smaller bent in front of him, his ass sticking into the air, saliva dripping from his open mouth while he pants…. Yifan snaps his eyes back to the street, locking them there when he feels his cock stir.

He manages to keep his attention away from Yixing for longer than he expected, but eventually his gaze falls onto the smaller man. With a shudder he realizes that the other has his eyes trained on him already, but that intense look he’s giving Yifan is not even the worst; _of course_ Yixing has taken a seat in the row where Yifan fucked him just the evening prior. When he realizes that he has caught the bus driver’s attention, a glimmer of mischief darts over Yixing’s face as he slowly closes his eyes, face scrunching up in an expression of pleasure, mouth opening for an inaudible moan. The bus is filled with passengers so Yifan is pretty much convinced that the other is only acting.

And yet Yifan’s cock twitches, as does his leg, and the bus gives a short stutter when the driver accidentally presses down on the break. Yixing looks utterly satisfied with himself.

Inhaling deeply, Yifan tries to think of the most disgusting things he can come up with in order to not get hard while he still has the last third of his route ahead of him.

It doesn’t even take another gaze into the rearview mirror for Yifan to know that it’s going to be a tough ride.


End file.
